


all mouth and no trousers

by simplyclockwork



Series: oh captain, my captain [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Army Doctor John Watson, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Captain John Watson, Catchin' feels, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, POV John Watson, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Smut, Spanking, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24988195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: (to) be all mouth (and no trousers)phrase of mouth1. INFORMAL:tend to talk boastfully without any intention of acting on one's words.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: oh captain, my captain [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740022
Comments: 42
Kudos: 180





	all mouth and no trousers

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to classical piano, cos why not
> 
> If you are also a fan of lovely classical piano, here's a link to what I was listening to: [Ludovico Einaudi's Una Mattina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Bvm9yG4cvs)
> 
> Also, I just had to use the saying in the title when I heard it.

When John opens his eyes to bright sunlight, his first thought is that the beam slanting across his face must have woken him. To his growing pleasure, he realizes it was something else entirely, something with dark, mussed hair and a sinful mouth, straddling his legs beneath the sheets. He looks beneath the blanket to see Sherlock bent over his lower body. As he watches, Sherlock drags his tongue over John’s sleepy cock, making it stir between his legs, pulling a groan from John’s open mouth.

“Oh, my god,” he breathes, eyes widening before his lids drop, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks, barely swallowing down another groan. Peeking up at him from under tangled curls, Sherlock’s pupils are blown wide, eyes huge and black in his face. He laps at the head of John’s cock, tonguing over the slit. The sensation is heavenly, slick and hot, fleeting and tempting, echoing what had woken him in the first place. Even as John wonders at the miracle he chanced upon in the form of meeting this perfect stranger, the flat of Sherlock’s tongue drags over the underside of his growing erection, and every thought flees from his head.

“ _Fuck me,”_ he hisses. “Come here.” Propping himself up on an elbow, he reaches for Sherlock, grabbing his arms and hauling him onto his chest once the man is close enough. Sherlock moves with the pull, smiling with a flash of teeth as John finds and claims his mouth. He kisses him with slow lips and wet tongue, gripping and tugging Sherlock’s bottom lip into his mouth. John sucks until it feels hot and swollen, digging his fingers hard into the plush curve of Sherlock’s arse. “God, I love this ass.” He spreads his fingers, pressing them back together and bringing his palm down hard against pale skin. 

“Ah, Captain...” Sherlock’s surprised grunt fades into a breathy moan as John repeats the action. With Sherlock bent over him, face pressed to John’s chest and knees planted on either side of his waist with his arse in the air, John delivers a few more loud, flat-handed blows. Sherlock jerks forward with each impact, panting, whining loudly on the final strike. When he lifts his head, his lips are parted, breath loud, face darkly flushed. John feels himself thicken, cock growing almost painfully hard at the sight of it. 

Staring at him, John shakes his head in wonder. “That face should be illegal.” He reaches out, tracing a sharp cheekbone, fingers drifting to Sherlock’s plump lips. He tugs at the bottom one with his thumb, feeling the soft, slick inside. “Seriously, how can you look like that?” Groaning, he grips a handful of curls and pulls Sherlock’s head to the side. “I want to _devour_ you.” 

With his head tilted by John’s grip, Sherlock’s eyelashes flutter. “What’s stopping you?” he asks, lightly challenging. Even his voice is lustful, deep and breathy, the sound making John moan with need. 

“Nothing, sweetheart, absolutely nothing,” John replies. Eyes flashing with hunger, he releases Sherlock’s hair and delivers another resounding smack to his behind, before ordering, “Turn around. Now, soldier.”

Sherlock does as told, brows rising with eager curiousity. When he moves as if to climb onto his knees, John grips his hips and pulls back. The gesture shifts Sherlock backwards automatically. He peers over his shoulder in time to catch John’s smirk before the soldier slides down flat on his back, lifts his chin, and takes Sherlock’s hanging cock in his mouth. 

“Oh—!” Sherlock’s surprised cry dwindles into a helpless, indecently wanton moan, his hips shifting, chasing the sensation of John’s mouth around his erection. “John, John, John…” His head ducks, hanging loose on his neck, eyes closed tightly as John sucks and slides his tongue around the crown. 

Fighting the urge to grin, working to keep the tight suction of his lips around Sherlock, John closes his eyes and focuses. Sherlock’s breathing, hot and loud, is warm on the inside of his thigh. It is easy, so easy, to lift his hips and guide his aching, throbbing cock toward Sherlock’s exhales. The tip brushes plush lips, finds where they part and slips inside. Sherlock is already opening wider for him, humming and whining low in his throat as John’s cock presses over the ridge of his soft palate. There is a brief, startling scrape of teeth that makes John growl, his hips twitching, then Sherlock is wrapping his lips around his teeth, and John’s cock is butting up into his soft palate. He moans at the sensation, taking Sherlock deeper into his own mouth, fingers finding and curling tight around Sherlock’s arse.

When John hollows his cheeks and tongues the leaking slit of Sherlock’s slender cock, Sherlock cries out, throat vibrating against the tip of John’s erection. The feeling of it makes John groan, and Sherlock trembles, his knees nearly giving out. He finds his balance, planting his elbows and knees, and takes John deeper into his mouth with a minor struggle. He gags and chokes once, twice, the feeling at once strange and brilliant against John’s hard flesh. Then, Sherlock’s throat softens, his mouth filling with saliva that eases the way for John to thrust up into his mouth. 

One of Sherlock’s hands wraps around his hip, tugging, a silent invitation for him to go deeper, harder, to take and take. But John strokes a soothing hand over what parts of Sherlock’s back he can reach, slipping his mouth free of Sherlock’s erection to murmur, “Not yet. We’re just getting started.” Sherlock shivers at the words, a low whine turned watery by the spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth, lips quivering around John’s large cock. 

To spare him and slow things down, John presses his hips hard to the bed, smacking Sherlock’s arse when he rushes eagerly to follow him down.

“Easy,” he whispers, stroking a thumb through the cleft between his cheeks and making Sherlock’s breath catch. “No need to rush, gorgeous.” Taking Sherlock back into his mouth, he slowly bobs his head, strategically curling his tongue around the curve of his cock. Sherlock makes soft noises that sound suspiciously like whimpered worship. His lips tug at John’s foreskin, tongue tracing the glans and coronal ridge. 

Fighting the urge to throw his head back at the beautiful sensations of Sherlock’s mouth, John laps precum with his tongue, his thumb slowly circling the puckered muscle of Sherlock’s hole. He works his way inside with achingly gradual pressure, Sherlock’s legs quivering as he struggles to hold himself up.

When John breaches him, replacing thumb with the tip of his index finger, Sherlock’s mouth pops off of his cock with a loud gasp. Grinning, John mouths again at the slit, then tilts his head to drag the flat of his tongue over the soft skin of Sherlock’s bollocks. The gesture makes Sherlock gasp again, and his legs give out as John’s finger slips up to the last knuckle. With his arse in the air, body sprawled over John’s chest and lower body, Sherlock rests his cheek against John’s thigh. He pants helplessly at the feeling of John adding a second finger. 

It’s tight, Sherlock’s muscles twitching and fluttering as John works him open. He watches with riveted eyes, pausing now and then to suck the head of Sherlock’s leaking erection. To fondle and mouth at his balls, to drop a loud smack against a reddened cheek. 

Sherlock lets out a particularly loud, needy sound at the insertion of a third finger, and John can’t help but groan in response.

“Fuck,” he breathes reverently. “You look _so good_ with my fingers inside you.” 

Sherlock’s only answer is a panting whine, and John shivers with the beauty of it. He spreads his fingers, stretching, searching and finding the spot that makes Sherlock’s entire body jolt. Makes him cry out and babble, legs opening wide as he shudders with pleasure. 

“Ah, fuck, John, Captain Watson, oh god, oh my god, _John!”_ His voice rises with each word, curses morphing into a slammed-together rant of bliss, John’s name shouted at the end in a shamelessly needy moan. The sound of it, drawn-out and aching, makes John’s cock twitch in sympathy. It buts up against Sherlock’s jaw. He receives a half-hearted suck for his troubles before Sherlock is biting into the muscle of John’s thigh and swearing as John strokes over his prostate again. “ _Johhnn_ ,” he whines, desperate, quivering and sloppy, his hips bucking back into John’s touch. “John, please!” 

“Hold on, sweetheart,” John says, placating, stroking soothing circles over Sherlock’s hip with his free hand. His fingers dip and twist, just two now, pushing against nerves and making Sherlock’s whole body light up with pleasure. Sherlock is rolling his head helplessly, fingernails scrabbling at the sheets, his sweat-damp face pressed to John’s skin. As he shudders and thrashes, bollocks drawing up tight to his body, John slips his fingers out. Ignoring Sherlock’s desolate, furious cry, he slides out from beneath him, grips him by the waist, and tosses him onto his back. Before Sherlock can speak or move, John climbs onto him, kissing him hard and deep, tongue slipping past his lips. 

Desperate, Sherlock sucks hard on John’s tongue, his breath caught and hitching in his chest. His hands slide over John’s back and fail to find hold before John breaks the kiss and moves down his body. Sherlock’s fingers grab at the sheets, bunching the material into tight tangles, hips wiggling, back arching. His movements guide John to the dip between his thighs, where his cock stands tall, twitching with need and throbbing in John’s mouth when he parts his lips to take it deep.

Looking up Sherlock’s flushed body, his skin splotchy with colour, John watches him squeeze his eyes tightly shut. His lashes flicker in time with the slide of John’s mouth on his aching cock. 

“John, John, John, John, _oh John,”_ he whispers, neck extending as his back curves, driving deeper into John’s mouth. The head of his cock bumps against the back of John’s throat, making Sherlock cry out. He’s getting close again, balls turning taut and drawing up. Smirking, John slides a hand under Sherlock’s shifting hips, finds his hole, and slides two fingers inside with a fast, hard twist. The tips find Sherlock’s prostate, stroke and glide in time with John swallowing around the head of his cock. The combined sensations overwhelm Sherlock, and he comes undone, eyes flying open, lips parted and o-shaped, howling his way through his orgasm. He floods John’s mouth with cum, muscles rigid, spine lifting off the bed with the force of his climax. 

Swallowing his release, John’s lips pop off of Sherlock’s softening cock with a lewd slurp. With Sherlock still shaking from the aftershocks, John sits back on his heels, grabs him by the hips, and tugs him backward. Hands under his rear, he lifts Sherlock’s limp body, plants his knees, and guides his hardening cock into his flexing hole. 

The reaction is slow, Sherlock groaning low in his throat at the penetration. His muscles tense with dwindling tremours, releasing as he seems to go boneless, allowing John to push in until fully seated. Sherlock voices another soft groan, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes roll back at the oversensitivity. 

John fucks into him with long, languid strokes, Sherlock’s head lolling against the sheets, hair standing up in a sweaty, insane mess around his head. He watches John’s face with dark, heavy eyes, making little mewling noises of pained pleasure as John’s thrusts grow faster, harder, take him deeper. When he finds Sherlock’s prostate again, the contact sends violent shivers through Sherlock’s body, slack, softened muscles twitching in response. 

“Oh, you wonder,” John breathes, watching Sherlock’s face twist with an expression that borders euphoria and agony. “Look at you, you’re stunning. Oh, _god,_ Sherlock, I could fuck you the rest of my life and never get tired of that face.”

Sherlock’s eyes widen then grow impossibly darker. Something vulnerable flashes over his face, and his expression is briefly and unbearably fragile before his eyes slide shut. He whispers something, and John has to duck to hear, leaning forward until he is curled over Sherlock’s body, his ear next to his mouth.

“What was that?” he asks, breathless and alight with pleasure, Sherlock’s body gripping him tightly. The click of Sherlock’s dry throat as he swallows is loud, nearly gun-shot sudden in the sunny bedroom. 

“I said,” Sherlock breathes, a low whine caught in his chest as John slides hard and rough into him, “you’re welcome to try.” 

John’s breathing catches, his brain taking precious seconds to connect Sherlock’s reply with his earlier words. When he puts it all together, his body shivers with realization. “Fuck,” he whispers, in awe. “You _absolute nutter.”_ Sherlock’s face is suddenly uncertain, eyes flashing with something like terror. John shakes his head and bends to kiss him, nibbling and sucking at his lips until Sherlock is panting and melting beneath him.

When he breaks the kiss, leaning back enough to look Sherlock in the eyes, John finds a wondrous look there, finds disbelief tempered with anticipation and hesitant hope. The sight of it fills John with a burning hunger, an aching want. It pushes him over the edge, into helpless, instinctive desire, and his hips snap forward, drawing a cry from Sherlock’s lips. 

“John!”

The sound of his name, gasped from perfect, plush lips, drives him into a frenzy. John's thrusts turn hard and fast, the angle of penetration taking him deep, pulling helpless, sobbing nonsense from Sherlock’s mouth. When he comes for the second time, his eyes are wider than the first, teeth pressed into his bottom lip and turning the flesh white. Hardly anything spills from the head of his soft cock, but Sherlock’s entire body twitches with the force of it, milking John’s own orgasm from him in waves of hot, tight ecstasy. He rides it out with gritted teeth, face pressed into Sherlock’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his torso to keep their bodies glued together.

Sherlock finally goes still, limbs loose, heavy, and melting into the sheets with John collapsed on top. The sound of their combined panting is a symphony of inhaling and exhaling, loud enough to compete with the noise of traffic outside. With Sherlock all but a puddle beneath him, John lifts his head with difficulty. Something tenuous and faltering lingers in Sherlock’s eyes, pupils beginning to shrink with his sated lust. 

“You called me sweetheart,” he says slowly, sounding dazed. Unable to help himself, John grins. Bending his head, he nuzzles into Sherlock’s sweaty neck, licking salt from his skin.

“Problem?” 

Sherlock shakes his head weakly, his body still heavy with lassitude beneath John. “Not even slightly.” 

John’s grin shifts to a smirk, his hands appreciative as they caress and stroke along the long, lean lines of Sherlock’s side, hip, and legs. The contact draws goosebumps and shivers over Sherlock’s skin, and John feels something bright and brilliant bloom in his chest. It hasn’t even been three full days with this man, and he already can’t imagine not having him like this, spread out and spent beneath him. 

Pressing open-mouthed kisses over Sherlock’s jaw, he sighs, “Good.”


End file.
